


Midnight Blizzard

by oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rescue, Slash, Stranded, Whump, blizzard, car crash, fluff if you squint, maybe not though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22106233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: Hope you all enjoy. I really need to get back to writing and hopefully, this kicks me into gear.Thanks to M_E_Lover as always!!!!
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	Midnight Blizzard

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy. I really need to get back to writing and hopefully, this kicks me into gear.   
> Thanks to M_E_Lover as always!!!!

Harold was vaguely aware of the bloody taste in his mouth but at first, he couldn't figure out what it was. He turned his head to look toward the driver’s seat. John sat there, unconscious, blood dripping down his forehead.

He lifted his hand up to the ex-op’s neck, his eyes closed, praying to feel the _‘thrum’_ of John’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Thankfully, he felt the flutter under John’s skin, signaling that his partner was still kicking despite their horrible accident.

He groaned, the constant throbbing pain in his chest was not encouraging in the least. He glanced out the window, seeing that they were well off the road, evidently the car had skidded down an embankment and a fair distance into the woods. 

“John?” he whispered, hissing in pain when he unbuckled his seatbelt, _‘The strap must have caused some bruising.’_ he thought absently. “John…” he tried again, inspecting the wound on his partner’s head.

The ex-op’s eyes fluttered open, blinking sluggishly. John stared back at his partner, motionless and silent.

“Can you hear me?” Harold asked anxiously, his heart clenching tight in his chest.

John’s eyes closed again, seemingly taking a moment to gather himself. “Harold?” he asked, his voice wavering a bit. “What… what happened? Where are we?”

Harold’s stomach dropped at the sound of his usual hardened partner’s voice sounding so weak. His own broke as he replied, “We were fleeing from Detective Tierney and a few of his unsavory cohorts...” Harold’s chest twinged again painfully, making him pause for a second to catch his breath, “They cut us off… and we ended up here…”

John glanced into the seemingly endless expanse of woods around them and the snow falling from the rapidly darkening sky. The fresh white powder had already started covering the car and the temperature had continued dropping quickly throughout the day.

“We have to get out of here…” John said absently. He moved his hand to the ignition and twisted the key, trying desperately to bring the engine to life. “Come on…” he growled. After a few long moments of the engine trying to turn over, he realized it was no use.

They were stranded.

“We might still be able to use the heat if you have the key turned to accessory mode…” Harold said, turning his attention to the knobs on the dash. 

John turned the key one click, not starting the engine but making the lights and radio turn on, and much to their luck, the heat roared to life. “Thank God…” Harold sighed.

“We’re going to need a lot more than that if we’re stuck out here, Harold…” John replied, his hands going to the wound on his head, feeling around the area warily.

Harold fished his phone out of his pocket, “I’ll try to call Miss Shaw. She should be able to track our location.”

John turned to search through the back of the car, finding the first aid kit under the seat. He brought it to the front of the car, opening it as Harold tried to get ahold of Shaw.

“Miss Shaw…” Harold started, “Mr. Reese and I seem to be in a bit of a predicament… We’ve slid down an embankment and are in the midst of some woods… our car is totaled. Please call me back as soon as you get this and have Detective Carter help you track this call if required.”

“No luck huh?” John asked, pulling things out of the medkit.

“No…” Harold replied quietly.

“We’ll be okay, Harold. We just have to stay where we are and wait for Shaw to come.” He pulled out a set of scissors and string. “I do need you to patch up my head though.” He handed Harold the materials with a smirk.

Harold took them, letting out a sigh as he did so. “You know how much I dislike doing this. Let alone doing this in a pitch-black car while I’m freezing.”

The side of John’s mouth quirked up and he held up the light from his phone so Harold could see better, “There. Finish this and we can snuggle for warmth.”

Harold rolled his eyes with a huff and went to work on the cut above John’s eye, unconsciously groaning now and then when he moved a certain way.

#

Once Harold had finished stitching John up, he was cleaning up the area when his phone buzzed. It was a message from Shaw.

_Don’t want to waste your battery. Carter and I are on the way. Stay where you are._

“Oh, thank goodness…” Harold breathed a sigh of relief for the first time since he had woken up. “Miss Shaw and Detective Carter are working on our rescue.”

John smiled, “Good. Now, recline your seat. I want to check you over. Make sure there’s no damage that we may be missing.” John noticed the sounds of distress Harold didn’t realize he was making and it concerned him.

Harold rolled his eyes; he hated being fussed over. But if it would make John feel any better to check on him, he supposed he could oblige.

“Any pain?” John asked, watching Harold’s seat recline backward, leaving him in a lounging position.

“Now that you mention it,” Harold started coolly, “my chest was rather sore when I first came to and… it hasn’t really let up since.”

John’s eyes narrowed, “and you’re just telling me this now?”

“Slipped my mind…” Harold chuckled nervously, seeing the obvious worry on his partner’s face. “What are you doing? I’m going to freeze!” Harold yelped as John started to unbutton his coat.

“Harold. You’ve just told me your chest hurts after we were in a major car accident. I have to check it out. You’ll be fine for a minute,” John admonished.

He resumed his inspection, carefully unbuttoning Harold’s jacket and dress shirt, before loosening his necktie. He inhaled sharply at the upsetting sight. “Damnit,” he huffed. Harold’s chest and abdomen were covered with red and purple bruises.

“What is it?” Harold asked worriedly.

“Looks like you could have a few broken ribs. Possibly even some bleeding…” John internally cursed as he ran his fingertips over the deeper colored marks gently. If Harold was bleeding inside his chest cavity… they weren’t going to have very long before major complications would start to occur.

“Oh…” was all Harold could manage to croak at his partner’s straightforward answer.

“It’ll be okay. Shaw and Carter will be here soon. We’ll get you to a hospital and get you fixed up…” John swallowed hard, buttoning Harold’s coat back up carefully and putting him back together.

He looked out the window for a moment, the snowflakes fell gently but were so dense that it almost obscured the view completely.

Harold had gone pale at the mention of possibly bleeding internally. John could deal with it though, couldn’t he? He was certainly trained in things like this.

He would be okay…

#

“Harold, wake up…” John roused Harold from a nap he didn’t realize he’d slipped into. “You’ve got to stay awake.”

Harold had moved over from the passenger seat to the middle, snuggling in close to John for warmth. He woke up with his head pillowed on his partner’s chest. 

“My chest hurts…” Harold groaned, a grimace on his face.

“Yeah…” John said softly, hearing Harold’s breathing begin to become labored was cause for major concern. He knew he had to get Harold to help. He thought Carter and Shaw would have been here by now… “Just hold on…” He didn’t want to leave the car because if they did and Shaw and Carter did come… they’d be sitting ducks. If he could just get to the road though, they might have a chance. But in the blizzard, there was no way to know which direction to go, landmarks were hidden behind the blanket of white that swirled so thickly.

He looked down at his partner, who’s eyes had closed again and looked like he was struggling to pull in breaths.

He decided that he couldn’t risk moving his seriously injured partner. The stress that would be put on Harold’s body could make his condition even worse. Besides the fact that there was a blizzard outside and as indicated by the chill that John was feeling more now, the temperature was quickly dropping as well.

“Harold…” John stirred him again, “You know everything about me, right?”

“Basically…” Harold murmured, not having much strength left to stay awake, much less have a conversation.

“Well…” John started, lifting Harold up a bit, pulling him in closer to his chest, “I bet you don’t know my favorite color.”

Harold managed a smirk, “If I had to hazard a guess…” he wheezed, his eyes opening barely, “Red.”

“No…” John chuckled. “I thought you’d guess black.”

“Black is…” Harold took in another shallow breath, the strength to speak rapidly leaving him, “not a color.” He wanted to continue, tell John that a black object absorbs all the colors of the visible spectrum and reflects none of them to the eye.

But he was just so tired.

“My favorite color is blue…” John said, looking down at his partner with fear in his heart. It was getting colder by the second, add that in with Harold’s declining condition… the odds weren’t in their favor. “The color of your eyes.” 

Harold’s mouth quirked up into a heartfelt smile.

“So you gotta stay awake, you hear me?” John smiled, his voice breaking slightly. “I need to see those eyes, Harold.”

Harold looked up at his partner, trying desperately to stay awake, to tell him he was okay. But his whole body had gone numb and his eyes just kept fluttering closed against his will. He let out a long, pained breath and his eyes fell closed.

“Harold?” John said quietly. “Harold. Look at me.” John’s voice started to get louder. “Harold! Open your eyes. Now,” he ordered.

Harold’s head lolled against his partner’s chest.

“Damnit,” John felt a tear roll down his cheek. His hand moved to Harold’s neck, searching desperately for a pulse. Suddenly, before he could do anything else, the door to the car was yanked open and a flashlight was shone into his eyes. He hadn’t anticipated the frigid cold, or the sting of driven snow on his face, nor the ferocity of the wind that whipped in and momentarily stole the air from his lungs.

“The hell happened?” Shaw growled, seeing the mess in front of her.

“Harold… he’s not breathing right…” John groaned, just now realizing how bad his head hurt. “Broken ribs… internal bleeding... his chest…”

Carter opened the other door, gently lifting Harold off of John and sliding him over to the passenger seat. Her hands went to his neck, feeling for a pulse herself.

John’s vision was starting to get fuzzy and his head had really started to throb. “Shaw, he’s got a pulse but…” Carter’s ear went to his chest, “I don’t think he’s breathing.”

John’s chest ached, and he didn’t think it was from any physical injury.

Shaw whistled in the direction where they must have come from, soon 3-4 more people came out of nowhere, rushing around and helping move Harold from the car. John couldn’t tell who they were through the fogginess of his concussion and the blizzard outside.

“Wait…” John groaned, slapping Shaw’s hands away from his head. “I have to go with him…”

Shaw grabbed his wrists, “No. I have to check you out. Don’t move.”

“Shaw,” John warned, staring straight through her.

“We’ve got him, John…” Carter said, looking over from the opposite side of the car. “I’ll stay with him… promise.”

John hesitantly nodded, his head falling back against the headrest. Harold was put onto a gurney and lifted out of sight. An Ambu-bag was put over his face.

“Look straight ahead…” Shaw said, flashing a light into John’s eyes.

John did as he was told, squinting away when the light was shone directly into his eyes. He groaned, turning away from the bright intrusion.

“Gotta bear it, Reese…” Shaw said quietly, continuing to check his pupils. “Headache?”

“Yeah…” Reese groaned.

Shaw checked his neck and back, making sure he was okay to move. “Squeeze…” she said, grabbing his hands. Reese obliged, really just wanting to get to Harold.

“Okay, let’s get you up. Can you walk?” Shaw asked, looking Reese up and down.

“Yes…” John said, moving to get out of the car. “Where’d they take Harold?”

“I told them to take him to the safehouse on 23rd street… The full medical one,” Shaw replied, taking one of Reese’s arms and putting it over her shoulder. “Do you remember much?”

“Not really… Harold said it was HR?” John said, trying to raise his voice over the sound of the wind roaring outside. He could feel the ice pellets bouncing off his coat.

“Fusco is on it… Simmons isn’t very happy that they let you guys slip away…” Shaw smirked.

“Yeah well, for his sake, Harold better pull through…” John said as Shaw helped him into the town car, finally escaping the ice-cold.

\---

The floor was slate grey and the walls stark white. It was not one of Harold’s more decorative safehouses. But it was fully decked out with everything they might need for any number of emergencies, a house that John thought might be necessary for any one of them… _except_ Harold.

Above them, the ceiling was made out of polystyrene squares laid out on a grid-like frame. The light was too bright for John’s eyes after the darkening gloom outside; making his migraine worse.

“Get into one of the exam rooms. You need a more thorough check-up,” Shaw said decisively.

“Where’s Harold?” he asked, not paying her demand any thought. He looked around and saw a room in the back with the door shut but light coming from underneath it. He made his way directly through the hallway, a deep sense of dread rooted deep in his stomach. 

His hand went to the door handle, but before he could open it, the door swung open, Carter rushing out of the room. “Shaw, we need you in here…” she said with a sense of urgency that could only mean one thing.

Shaw and Carter rushed passed John, not sparing him a second glance. He turned, looking into the room before the door closed again. Harold was laying on the metal slab of an operating table. John couldn’t tell much through all the blood, but what he could make out was the unmistakable sound of a flatlining heartbeat.

John took a few steps backward, feeling like he had just been shot in the chest.

Harold couldn’t die.

Harold wasn’t supposed to be hurt. He was supposed to be safe and sound behind his computer… not bleeding out on an operating table.

He wasn’t even supposed to be with him in the first place. A last-minute mess up by John had led to needing his partner’s help in the field.

Now he was paying for it.

He felt Bear nudge against his leg, not realizing that Fusco and the dog had entered the house. “What the hell, Wonderboy? You look awful…”

Fusco walked up to the taller man, his face screwed up in worry. “Come on, sit down…” he put his arm on John’s back, trying to lead him to the couch.

“No,” John took a rapid step back. He turned and made his way down the hall toward the front door. As he got there, Fusco hurried around him, stopping in front of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his hand pressed firmly against John’s chest.

“To finish what I started,” John growled a warning to the detective. “Move.”

“You and I both know this won’t help glasses…” Fusco said back firmly.

John glared at him, not saying another word. He looked as though he’d been punched.

The door to the room in the back opened, Shaw exiting. Her clothes were covered in blood, her hands shaking. She went to the fridge and flashed a glance towards the men standing in front of the door.

She popped the cork off a bottle of whiskey and took a long drink, letting out a breath she said, “He’s fine.”

John let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Gonna have a hell of a recovery… but we got him back. Megan is finishing things up right now,” she took another swig of the alcohol.

John started to feel dizzy; his stomach gave out. It felt like his insides were being replaced by some kind of black hole. Then nausea crept from his abdomen to his head… and the world went black.

\---

John woke up with a shout, “No!” he thrashed awake.

“Hey. Relax…” Shaw said quietly, she was sitting awfully close to him and he felt a tug on the skin on his forehead. “Don’t move, I’m fixing the stitches on your head…”

He sighed, “What happened?”

“You collapsed. Exhaustion… concussion… thought you might have had a brain bleed but you’re clear,” she replied, her concentration fully on her task. She tied off the last stitch, clipping it with the scissors, “there.” She set down her tools, standing up and moving away from the bed.

John looked around, seeing that he was in the same room as Harold. His heart sank at the sight of his partner, so… hurt. He was pale, _too_ pale. An oxygen cannula was around his face, in his nose. He had IVs snaked around him, two in his arms and one in his neck.

“He’ll be alright…” Shaw said softly. She was standing in the doorway now, not looking back toward her patients, but to the hallway. “Thought you’d want to be in here with him when he woke up… so we moved you in here when you passed out.” She took a step forward toward the hallway.

“Thank you,” Reese croaked out, his throat dry and scratchy.

He sat up slowly from his bed, the room spinning slightly. He swung his legs over and pressed his feet to the tile floor to stand up. His whole body was sore from the accident. He was surprised he didn’t have more injuries.

Harold on the other hand… hadn’t been so lucky.

John pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, slowly making his way down to sit in it. His side giving a painful twinge as he hit the chair cushion. He tentatively reached out and gently placed his fingers around Harold’s wrist. A sudden rush of relief flooded him as he felt the flutter of his partner’s heartbeat. “I’m sorry,” John said softly, his voice threatening to break on him. “I’m so sorry.”

An expression flashed on Harold’s face. It happened so quickly that John hardly noticed it. But he couldn’t ignore it when Harold let out a soft, pained moan. John put his hand on Harold’s cheek gently, “Harold…?”

The older man reached up and pulled the oxygen from his nose. He started to toss and turn, no doubt making the pain in his chest much worse. His movements were slow and clumsy, like a baby foal learning to move for the first time. The drugged haze gradually started to lift as John stood up and gently tried to stop his partner from hurting himself.

“Ouch…” Harold grumbled. He blinked slowly a few times. His gaze finding John after a moment, confusion was written on his face.

“Hey…” John whispered. “You scared us…” John replaced the nasal cannula carefully, sliding it back over Harold’s ears and into his nose.

“What…” Harold’s speech cut off with a pained hiss, his eyes clenching shut.

“Do you remember the accident?” John asked, sitting back down and gently putting his hand on Harold’s arm, being careful of the IV line.

Harold stared vacantly for a moment then looked back at the ceiling, unmoving and quiet. He took a deep breath and turned back to John, “My glasses?”

John reached over to the table where his partner’s spectacles lay. He slid them over Harold’s ears and onto the bridge of his nose. “There… better?”

“Yes, thank you…” Harold said softly. “Are you alright, Mr. Reese? I don’t remember much… but I do remember that you hurt your head…”

John chuckled softly, of course, Harold would be worried about him after he’s just had his chest cracked open. “I’m fine. Couple stitches and some pain killers and I’m good to go,” John gave Harold’s arm a reassuring squeeze, “But _you_ had us worried, Harold. We lost you… your heart stopped…”

“Oh…” was all Harold replied. He was still clearly drugged. The pain medication doing its job for now. “Maybe I should drive next time…” Harold smirked, his eyes looking at John warmly.

John chuckled, thankful that his partner had made it through, “Maybe you should…” he grabbed Harold’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “How about we just stay indoors unless it’s 50 degrees or higher?”

Harold gave John’s hand a soft squeeze in return, “I think I’d be perfectly fine with that.”


End file.
